A/N 1: This one is heavy but not as heavy as the next one. Also, I hope it doesn't read as disjointed (this chapter was kind of hard to rewrite).
CHAPTER WARNINGS: Mild language and mild violence.
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Earth, March 22nd, 1940 A.D — Edward's Study, Evening
Edward stared at the sunset, a tumbler filled halfway with a scotch in hand. The sky appeared as if it'd been set on fire, serving as a gentle reminder of what had transpired an hour ago in the living room. Edward brought the glass to his lips. He savored the numbing warmth of the scotch as it went down his throat. He knew he shouldn't be having any liquor, but every fiber in his body begged him for one more glass. Any moment now, his daughter was going to bring down the door to the study, and he needed something to make the inevitable confrontation a bit more bearable.
Edward scowled, remembering the way he'd treated Patricia back in the living room. Oh, how he wished he could turn back the hands of time... To his favor, Patricia was an expert in pushing his buttons, and her new stunt at the boarding school hadn't helped neither. He was positive he didn't grab Patricia hard, his girl had simply had cried out because she'd been spooked by his actions, as he no doubt had spooked everyone else in the room. He hoped he didn't leave any marks on Patricia's fair skin otherwise he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. Suddenly, the door burst open. Edward drew in a calming breath, the inevitable moment had arrived.
Patricia closed the door behind her with a gentleness that Edward hadn't been expecting. Perhaps Patricia didn't want to cause a scene since it would draw the attention of her beloved little brother. That girl is quite protective of Little Benjamin, just as much as he is protective of Alphonse.
Patricia went straight to the desk and started going through the drawers, completely ignoring him in the process.
Edward frowned. "And what it is you think you're doing?"
"Looking for your address book," she replied without taking her eyes from what she was doing. "Aha!" she said a moment later, having found what she was looking for. Edward remained quiet out of curiosity. Patricia set the address book on the desk and started leafing through the pages, only to shut it close once she reached the end. It was only then that she looked up at him.
Edward held on to his mask of calm as he met his daughter's gaze, her intense anger almost knocked it off.
Everyone under the Rockwell roof knew that Patricia and he hadn't seen each other eye-to-eye in a long time, but there was something else—something dark and sinister—taking form behind Patricia's golden gaze and that something made him feel quite uneasy. Oh, Trisha, he thought miserably as he left the tumbler on the window sill.
"Trish," he called out to her but then fell silent. He honestly had no idea how to connect with his daughter anymore.
"I'm looking for Uncle Al's number," Patricia said, trying to sound as if nothing had happened between them, but her clipped tone betrayed her.
Edward sucked in a breath. When was the last time he'd seen his little girl happy? His mind wandered, recalling all those times when he behaved in a similar fashion with his own father. "There is no number, Trish," he said in a quiet voice, suddenly realizing he was stepping into Hohenheim's shoes.
"Sure there is!" Patricia said, flashing him a curt smile.
Edward sighed, knowing exactly where the conversation was heading. He vested himself in patience and understanding since what he was going to say next would not sit well with his daughter.
"Even if there's a number, you won't get through, Trisha. You need clearance for that." Edward was sure Patricia knew this but he had to remind her, just in case she'd forgotten.
If looks could kill, his life would've been forfeit right about now. Patricia's murderous look reminded him of those he'd given Roy Mustang when he was a sullen teenager himself.
Patricia shook her head, refusing to acknowledge his words. Edward could tell she was beginning to despair.
Patricia approached him with some reluctance. "Then are you ready to talk?" she said, but then took a step back, her nose crinkling in disgust. Edward's mouth compressed into a thin line, even though his daughter was in the right of feeling repulsed by the stench of alcohol emanating from him. He didn't speak right away since he had no plan in mind. Knowing his daughter, she would want him to take a direct approach rather than the long way around. Like him, Patricia preferred cold, hard truths and transparency—but how can he broach a subject that would make his baby girl hate him? Edward closed his eyes for a second and inhaled deeply. He owed Patricia the truth, regardless of repercussions; and, he had enough of hiding things from the people he loved.
Edward opened his eyes. "Please take a seat, Trish," he said as he motioned for the couch. Patricia stared at him for a few moments before taking a seat. Edward sat on the armchair to spare her his alcohol breath. No words came out of his mouth as he stared at Patricia. He was scared, and with reason, for he was going to show his firstborn his true nature.
As he was about to begin, Edward caught Patricia rubbing the side of her arm, the one he'd grabbed like a boorish brute earlier.
"How bad is it?" he asked, despite dreading the answer.
Patricia averted her eyes for a brief second. "I'm fine," she said as she returned her gaze to him.
While there might not be any bruising on the surface, Edward knew the bruising lied deep inside. He tore his gaze away, feeling ashamed of himself, but he would not succumb to self-pity. He was aware that he needed to pay for his transgression. Recriminations would have to wait until Wendy returned home. He was sure Wendy would do a fine job of skinning him alive once she found out what he'd done to their little girl.
"Where's mom?" Patricia asked, steering the conversation back to where it should be.
"She's—" Edward started but his voice failed him. He cleared his throat and began again. "She's in Amestris."
Patricia gaped at him in utter disbelief. A few beats later, she snapped her mouth shut, and her gaze became distant. It was clear she was doing her best to comprehend what he just disclosed.
"How?" she said her voice but a whisper.
"It was an accident," Edward answered. "Your mother—" he stopped. He was trying to look for the easiest way to explain Wendy's disappearance, but Patricia beat him to it.
"It was that stupid teleportation project she was working on, wasn't it?"
Edward's heart constricted with unexpected pain from listening to his daughter's heartbreak. "Yes," he admitted, seeing his daughter needed to hear this, despite how hard that truth would be. Then, something clicked. How did Patricia come to know of her mother's work? "How did you know about the project?"
"Mom and Uncle Al told me about it," she said, her expression became pensive. "Amestris was supposed to be a bedtime story," she added right after.
Patricia was now staring directly at him, her golden eyes imploring him to say that he made it all up. Edward swallowed hard, then said, "It has always been real, Trish—all of it."
Patricia let out a shaky breath as the weight of his words—not doubt in his mind—settled on the pit of her stomach. For a few moments, Patricia looked petrified. Finally, she spoke. "And that woman...she's mom's counterpart, isn't she?"
Edward nodded, and another shaky breath escaped her.
But then Patricia averted her eyes as if refusing to look at him for some odd reason. His daughter's pained expression turned grim, and a dark chuckle rumbled out of her chest. Her chuckles soon turned into downright laughter. Edward became anxious. That sinister aura he'd sensed in Patricia when she walked in was back.
Having had her share of mirth, Patricia wiped the tears with her fingers. "Mavis called her Winry," she said, sniggering when she mentioned Winry's name as if the name itself was the punchline of a joke. "Wasn't your mechanic's name Winry? You know the girl you used to tell us stories about? the one you had a crush on?" she added, suddenly sounding sober.
Edward felt the blood leave his face. How—? he thought to himself in silent consternation. Had his feelings for Winry been so transparent that a child—a small child at the time, that is—could've picked on it?
"Trisha, I get that you're upset—" Edward began, trying to shield his daughter from more heartache, but Patricia cut him off.
"How could you..." she said in a low voice, her eyes narrowing into contemptuous slits, letting him know with the gesture that she wasn't going to let him talk his way out of it. "Did you ever loved my mother?" she added, sounding angry beyond belief.
Fucking hell... Edward thought miserably. Things were catastrophic. He stared at his daughter not knowing what to say that wouldn't make him look even worse in her eyes.
"You bastard—you fucking liar!" Patricia screeched when he failed to answer the question altogether.
Edward frowned. He wanted to scold Patricia for her insolent tone, but she was right. He was a fucking liar—and a cheat to boot.
Patricia rose from the couch and headed straight for the exit, but she stopped shy from opening the door. She turned around, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "Did mom know about that woman?—answer me!" she bellowed, her voice shaking with emotion.
Edward's frown deepened. He did suspect Wendy knew about Winry and their relation to each other, but he wasn't entirely sure of it. "Your uncle and I are working on a way to get your mother home," he said in a solemn tone as he held his daughter's angry gaze. "You can ask her yourself once she's back."
Patricia snorted in disdain. "You sure know how to push the burden on others, don't you?" she said in a sarcastic tone before an insolent smile played about her rosy lips. "And then you dare get angry at me when I do the same."
Edward got off the armchair. "Things are never that simple!" he said in his defense.
"Sure they are, Edward, sure they are..." she said, mocking his words.
Edward had to remind himself that his daughter was lashing out at him as a defense mechanism, but he couldn't let her continue. He was her father, and like it or not, she needed to show him respect. "I'm only going to warn you once," he began, but Patricia interrupted him again.
"What happens if I don't want to listen to you? Will you leave bruises on me this time around?" she said, shamelessly taunting him with her snide words. "I guess I'm really going to get it too since your sweetheart isn't around to save me from you anymore."
Edward scoffed in dismay, refusing to accept the impudence spewing out of his daughter's mouth. He'd been patient with her so far but that patience was fizzling out, fast.
"I hate you!" Patricia snarled petulantly.
Edward gaped at her in shock. It wasn't just her words, but the intense hatred etched on her face what told him Patricia wasn't joking. Not even him held such ill-conceived feelings against Hohenheim.
Patricia opened the door and slammed it shut when she closed it behind her.
Edward plopped down into the armchair. He sat motionless for a long while, his eyes looking at nothing in particular. He felt numb all over, except where it counted the most. His heart ached with the painful realization, that not only was he a terrible husband, he also turned out to be a far worst father than his own ever was.
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Amestris, Continental Calendar, September 25th, 1919
Wendy hummed with delight as she slurped what was left of her noodles. "M—Roy, I don't think I've ever eaten something so scrumptious since Mavis's cooking," she said with her mouth still full, conduct the proud maid would've frowned upon if she'd been sitting among them at that moment.
Unfortunately, her good humor dwindled a little. Thinking about home wasn't something she did much these days for fear of getting too homesick.
Thinking about home, also brought about another dilemma. Wendy gazed at Roy, a sad smile on her lips. If there was one thing she would miss from this Wonderland, that would be Brigadier General Roy Mustang.
"Chinese?" Roy asked, with an eyebrow raised and chopsticks hovering over his bowl.
Wendy blushed. "I meant Xinguese," she said as she placed her own chopsticks on the small rest next to the empty bowl.
Roy slurped the last of his noddles. "So, it's not only people but places too?"
Wendy nodded. "That's right. There are many places on Earth that are similar to Amestris."
Roy folded his arms on the table, his good eye never leaving her face.
Wendy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled; Roy's insatiable curiosity never ceased to amaze her. "I take it you want a lesson in geography?" she joked since playful banter was also something that Roy couldn't have enough of.
"You read my mind," Roy smirked.
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"Okay," Wendy began, absentmindedly tapping her cheekbone with her finger as she studied the map. She pointed to Amestris. "Your Amestris is closely related to my world's England," she said before moving her finger across the map, towards the right. "Our China is your Xing," she continued. Then, she moved her finger towards the upper portion of the map. "And Drachma is Russia." She glanced at Roy for a second to see how he was faring then returned her attention to the map. "Aurego sure looks like the Mediterranean, which includes the southern part of Europe and the northern part of Africa." Her finger was circling the lower portion of the map, and with it, wrapping up the lesson.
"What about your country? the United States?" Roy asked.
"The United States of America, you mean?" Wendy replied, her eyes full of mirth.
She looked back at the map, tapping her cheek again with her finger. "I guess it would fall somewhere around this region," she said as she pointed at the landmass west of Amestris.
"And that would be Creta," Roy added matter-of-factly.
Wendy hummed, realizing something about the arrangement of the landmasses on the map. "Now that I think of it, your world looks awfully like Pangea(1)." She slid her gaze to Roy, expecting to see a puzzled look in his face. "Earth used to be one huge continent around three-hundred million years ago. The scientists named this supercontinent Pangea or Whole-land." She traced a circle around the edges of the landmass. "Your world somehow didn't break apart, as ours did."
Roy kept staring at the map, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "I didn't think there would be marked differences," he said a moment later.
Wendy nodded. "I assumed the same thing, but then I met your Second Lieutenant." She sighed, conflicting emotions playing over her face. "Your Second Lieutenant is such a sweet man," she said as she looked at a frowning Roy, forcing a smile to her lips.
The nuance didn't go unnoticed, for Roy said, "And the Earth version is not."
Wendy averted her eyes once she heard those words out loud. They never touched upon the incident in Warehouse Thirteen until now. "Yes, he isn't," she replied, hating having to talk about Jean Montgomery. But Roy kept staring at her, urging her to continue. She sighed again, thinking that perhaps it would do her some good to vent. She'd talked about many things from home already, only divulging personal details when strictly necessary. Roy had proven to be a good listener, and she had no doubt in her mind that he would also be an excellent confidant.
"Jean's Earth counterpart is also named Jean—Jean Montgomery to be exact," she began. "Coincidentally, he too is involved with the military, but unlike the Second Lieutenant, Jean Montgomery is an Admiral." Wendy noticed a look of confusion on Roy's face, so she added, "An Admiral is the commander of a Naval fleet. Amestris is land-locked so there's no need for a maritime military branch."
Roy nodded. "Like our neighbors."
Wendy hummed in agreement. "Another thing you don't know is that an Admiral's rank is higher than yours. My guess is that it's close to a Major General," she said with an impish smile playing about her lips.
Roy couldn't help but shake his head. It was obvious he was trying to picture his own subordinate in a seat of power. "So, he's a pretty big deal then?" he said after a while.
Wendy noticed Roy was genuinely impressed with the finding, and that made it harder for her to continue talking about the Admiral, for there wasn't anything kind she could say about him.
"And he's done you some kind of harm," Roy added knowingly. Wendy snapped her head toward him, shocked by his comment. "It's written all over your face," Roy said, his tone sobering as he spoke.
Wendy cast her eyes down, hating feeling so exposed.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Roy followed, and that made Wendy feel guilty for some odd reason. Wendy looked up and held Roy's concerned gaze. "It's okay. I'm a big girl, you know?" Roy smiled—for her sake—and she appreciated the gesture. She took a deep breath, then began.
"Admiral Jean Montgomery, from Dallas, Texas, USA, is a forty-eight-year-old man who inherited his father's cattle empire back in 1929. He's filthy rich and also a power-hungry-scum-of-a-man." She paused to catch her breath. "He's the biggest bigot and racist I've ever met—oh! and he treats women like garbage."
Roy gaped at her, not knowing what to say. So Wendy spoke for him.
"And as you already mentioned, he's the reason why I'm in this sorry predicament." Wendy felt terrible when she saw the slight look of hurt on Roy's face. "I didn't mean it like that," she said, trying to apologize for her thoughtlessness.
Roy snapped out of it when he heard those words. "You don't have to apologize, Wendy. You are indeed in a predicament; we just happen to be part of it too."
Wendy nodded in agreement despite her chagrin.
"What role does the Admiral play in the teleportation experiment?" Roy asked, trying to help Wendy move past her unease.
"He's my boss, in a sense," Wendy replied, taking the bait. "The Navy is sponsoring the entire project, and he's in charge of The Annex." She paused to gather her thoughts. "The Havoc told me he was going to pull the plug on the experiment if I didn't produce tangible results."
"The Havoc?" Roy asked, shocked.
Wendy chuckled ruefully. "You can thank Ed and Al for that nickname." Roy's expression became somber—she must've been making a face again.
"I didn't want to endanger anyone so I took it upon myself to volunteer as the test subject," she added, steering clear from the subject of the Elric brothers.
Roy's gaze never left hers. He stared at her in silence, his scrutiny making her feel vulnerable and quite uneasy. She offered him a wide smile in hopes that he would stop worrying, but Roy wouldn't relent, and in an act that ended shocking her to the core, Roy leaned over the table and took her hand in his.
"You'll go back home," Roy said as he turned the full force of his intense gaze on her. "Together, we'll make that dream a reality."
Wendy let out a shuddering breath. Roy's gaze on her felt as if he could see right down to her soul. And his passion ignited something in her she hadn't felt in ages. Wendy pulled her hand away, bringing it close to her chest, cradling it as if he had tried to set her on fire. Perhaps she did catch on fire, seeing her chest and face began feeling hot. But what made the moment surreal was the fact that Roy looked just as agitated as she—undoubtedly—was.
Needless to say, Roy had acted on impulse but now that things have unraveled this way, they both didn't know how to continue.
"Let me help with the dishes, it's the least I can do for the wonderful meal," Wendy said, her voice shaking with restrained emotion, as she desperately tried to spare each other from further mortification.
Roy thankfully kept to the script. "Nonsense, you're my guest," he said, and smiled too, for good measure.
Wendy shook her head. "Then at least let me help you." She raised her eyebrows just as Roy was about to refuse. "I won't take a no for an answer," she said, already heading to the kitchen.
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There weren't many dishes to clean. It really was a one-person job but Wendy welcomed the distraction as it gave her enough time to take stock of life so far.
Everyone who knew her always said the same thing about her: that she was a happy, outgoing person. In most cases, people's assumptions were fairly accurate, seeing she did a splendid job at hiding her innermost feelings.
Her intentions weren't to mislead people out of sheer pleasure, she just didn't know how to deal with those feelings herself.
Being in Amestris had been a liberating and also an—no pun intended—otherworldly experience. What she once considered fantasy had turned out to be an undeniable reality. The places and people whom both Edward and Alphonse described—to the minute detail—had been exactly as each said they would be. It pained her to admit that it took for her to be in Edward's and Alphonse's shoes to fully understand them and their plight, and now that she was in their shoes, she wondered if it'd been her fault that the brothers couldn't adapt to life on Earth. She'd been so curious about Amestris that she probably didn't give them—especially Edward—a chance to make peace with their decision to sever ties with everything they knew and loved—
"Have you met the other me? Roy asked while he scrubbed the wok with a bristle brush.
Wendy gave him a puzzled look. She'd been so immersed in her thoughts that she didn't catch his question.
Roy chuckled in amusement. "I asked if you've met my counterpart on Earth."
Wendy hid behind a smile. Roy was reminding her more and more of the way she hounded Edward with questions. "No, I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure," she purred. She even winked at Roy in hopes that it would derail the course of the conversation. But Roy's question stuck with her.
It was true that she hadn't encountered Roy's Earthling double yet, but she did meet his best friend's counterpart while attending the university in Berlin. Maes Hughes had been one of the first stories of Amestris Edward shared with her—right after she forced him to explain why the mechanical arm and leg attached to his body were so unlike anything she'd seen before.
Roy stopped what he was doing and stared at her expectantly. "Well?" he prompted when she didn't begin on her own accord.
"I don't know if I should be telling you this..." Wendy breathed, still debating about telling Roy about Maes.
"Because it's related to me?" Roy finished for her.
Wendy nodded. "It might prove to be too hard to hear."
Roy left the brush in the sink and crossed his arms over his chest. "Because it can turn out to be as unpleasant as when you met Jean?"
"Yeah," Wendy sighed.
"It's safe for me to assume that you met Maes's double?" Roy simply said, making Wendy stare at him wide-eyed.
"Yes..." Wendy said after she collected her thoughts and regained her composure. Her reply had sounded like an apology, something that Roy caught instantly, seeing he nodded in understanding.
"It's okay, Wendy. I already had made my peace with it."
Wendy averted her eyes. Why must Roy be so damn perceptive?
"I bet he's just as nosy as my friend," Roy joked. Wendy looked up and saw Roy smiling at her. He was trying to make her feel better and she didn't know if she should thank him or chastise him for it. She chose the latter and offered her thanks with a smile of her own.
"You know, that's what Ed said before I met him, but honestly, once I met him, I didn't see it," Wendy said, chuckling as she remembered the German police officer. "Did you know he married Gracia?" she added. Roy's mouth hung open, making her snigger.
"So that means they have their own little Elicia?" Roy said in afterthought.
The sense of relief crossing Roy's face made Wendy sober up. "I'm afraid that's where the similarities end." Roy's confused look prompted her to continue, so she added, "Gracia can't have children."
"Oh," Roy mumbled. After a long silence, he picked up the brush and continued cleaning other pans.
Wendy couldn't bring herself to talk about the subject anymore.
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Earth, March 25th, 1940 A.D
Today was another "unusual" hot day in Virginia. Winry heard some of the workers claim that days like these foretold of a hellishly hot summer and a busy hurricane season—whatever that meant. To Winry, it translated to one thing: hydration, tons of hydration. Unlike a few days ago when she started working on Betsy, Winry made sure to bring a Thermos(2) with her. She'd been quite impressed with the way that bottle worked: just throw some ice cubes into it, and the liquid—in this case, Mavis's sweet tea—would remain cold for hours. The whole thingamajig was a godsend too seeing that it freed her from spending unnecessary time inside the main building. Unfortunately, the Rockwell Estate had become a place of abject rejection and animosity—not like it had been much more different before—but unlike before, now she could sense the negativity everywhere, even in the air she breathed.
Winry looked down, at her right hand, and realized she'd been squeezing the life out of the wrench she was holding. Grumbling, she tossed the wrench back in the toolbox. Winry crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at the borrowed tools while mentally berating herself for having lost her temper so quickly. She was getting all worked up over nothing again. She reminded herself that she needed to unwind, but how could she even accomplish such a feat when she felt so oppressed? Being reduced to the role of a prisoner didn't help neither. Winry scoffed to herself. It was all thanks to Edward, who in an act of tyranny, decided it was in her best interest to be kept contained the golden cage that was the Rockwell Estate.
Thinking about Edward made her bad temper worsen. Winry was now vibrating from sheer anger, an emotional state that ultimately left her feeling raw after it all burned away.
Winry picked up the pack of cigarettes sitting next to the toolbox and took one out. She'd snatched the cigarettes from the gardener's shack when she picked up the toolbox earlier that morning. Winry wasn't proud of what she did, but she needed those cigarettes more than Mr. Jackson. Winry put the cigarette to her lips just as she fished the Zippo lighter(3) from the side pocket of her overalls. She lighted the cigarette and took a long pull, holding the smoke in her lungs long enough for the nicotine to start smoothing out all the rough edges. A few more drags and her mind and body finally found the release it'd desperately needed. The fiery anger was poured out in the nick of time.
Winry never would have guessed she would become a smoker, but smoking was the coping mechanism she'd chosen for herself. Winry still remembered that first cigarette. Second Lieutenant Havoc offered one after escorting her out of the Underground City. Winry didn't know what possessed her at the time, but she accepted the unusual gift before getting inside the military car. She smoked the cigarette at Scieska's apartment. Scieska didn't reprimand her like she usually did when she was acting stupid, Scieska simply offered a sad yet sympathetic smile right before she started babbling about conspiracy theories.
Winry steered away from the poignant memory before it had the chance to ruin the nicotine high. Her eyes caught the red in the cigarette packaging. A sarcastic laugh rumbled through her when she read the brand name(4). Well, she hadn't struck any luck in that place, that's for sure.
Winry stared at the packet a little longer before taking another cigarette out. She lit the new cigarette with the old one before tossing the latter on the ground and stomping it. Winry had the decency to look inside the box to see how many cigarettes were left. Only six more. Winry frowned, bitterly realizing she'd smoked half a pack already.
She hadn't smoked at all ever since Russell moved in with her, but before that, when she first met him, she was smoking a full pack every two days. Thankfully, Russell didn't know that she had been smoking a pack daily during those first few months after her grandmother died.
Winry averted her eyes from the pack and fixed them on the wall. It'd been Russell who'd helped her kick the cigarette habit, and now she was back where she started. "Oh, Russell, what would you say if you could see me now," she mumbled to herself, her expression distant. She absently took another drag, the image of a smiling Russell strong in her mind. Would Russell really understand the reason behind her taking up smoking? Winry couldn't help but wonder. She gave a sad laugh knowing well that her fiancée would understand. Winry's thoughts then drifted to Edward's birthday party, just before all hell broke loose. Would Russell also understand the way she conveniently forgot all about him while she flirted Edward?
Winry sighed, leaning on Betsy, her arms crossed over her chest, the cigarette limp between her fingers.
Truth be told, she had kept her distance from Edward ever since Benjamin Rockwell had caught them kissing, but now she was downright avoiding him—and pretty much, avoiding everyone else after accidentally meeting Edward's children.
Just like with the Benjamin Rockwell incident, and with pretty much every incident that'd happened ever since she woke up from her coma, Winry also spent long hours trying to make sense of Edward's obtuse actions. Regrettably, she reached the same damn conclusion regarding Edward Elric: he simply didn't respect her enough to trust her.
"What happened to you?" she whispered, just as her eyes lined with tears.
Was time such a cruel mistress that it could break strong men like Edward? And it wasn't only Edward who'd become a shell of his former self, Alphonse too was not exactly the person she remembered. All those good qualities that made Alphonse Elric special vanished after the incident with Becky during Edward's birthday party. Like her, Alphonse was busy dealing with the aftermath of that night, but the poor choices he was making reminded her too much of Edward, and she just wasn't equipped to deal with more self-destructive tendencies.
Winry grimaced when a sudden a sharp pain tore through her right hand. The cigarette went flying. She'd been so absorbed in her thoughts that she'd forgotten she was smoking.
Winry stepped on the still-lit cigarette and stared at it while nursing her burnt fingers, recalling all those times white-hot ash touched her skin.
The incident only served to sour Winry's mood even more, but not enough as for her to stop smoking for the rest of the day. Even now, as she sucked on her poor fingers, she was considering lighting another, even though it would bring her a step closer to finishing the pack.
Winry looked around, feeling guilty all of a sudden. The silence around her reminded her that no one would care if she smoked a new cigarette or the rest of the pack. "Fuck it," Winry said, pushing down the lump forming in her throat. She moved away from Betsy and took out a cigarette from the pack. She was about to light it up when she heard movement coming from Betsy's rear. Winry inched closer to the toolbox and grabbed hold of a wrench. She left the cigarette next to the toolbox then padding towards the rear of the roadster, gripping the wrench tighter in her hand despite the aching pain. Winry relaxed when she recognized the intruder.
Edward's son stood motionless, his blue eyes wide and round as he stared back at her.
A wave of sadness washed over Winry when she realized how similar the boy's expression was to hers when she was around his age.
The boy broke into a sheepish smile. Winry let out a shaky laugh noticing it was the same smile Alphonse gave people whenever he was caught red-handed.
The boy must've sensed something was wrong for his smile faltered. It hadn't been Winry's intention to cause the boy unease, so she rearranged her features into a friendly smile. "Hello," she then said, but the boy didn't answer. Winry wondered if the wrench in her hand was to blame; she hid it behind her back and tried again.
"I hope I didn't scare you."
The boy kept staring at her. Finally, he shook his head, and said, "You didn't scare me, Miss Winry. It is I who should apologize for not announcing my presence when I first walked in."
The unexpected politeness caught Winry by surprise. Edward's son was proving to be a little gentleman—he most definitely took after his uncle in that regard.
The boy turned his attention to Betsy. He walked to the front of the roadster and peeked inside the hood. Winry could tell he was itching to touch something but refrained from doing so. Polite indeed. Winry left the wrench in the toolbox before reaching the boy's side.
"You like cars, Ben?" she asked, calling him by his first name after finally remembering it. Out of Edward's kids, she only remembered Patricia's name, and that was only because of the unsavory impression the girl left her when they first met.
Ben's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Oh, yes, I like cars very much, Miss Winry!"
A smile spread across Winry's lips. "'Miss Winry' is way too formal," she said. "How about if you simply call me Winry?" Ben nodded happily, making her laugh. The boy's enthusiasm was contagious and exactly what she needed to feel better.
"Have you been fixing Uncle Al's car this whole time?" Ben asked as he stood on his tiptoes, trying to get a better look at the motor.
"That's right," Winry nodded.
The boy's eyes grew wide with awe. "Wow! You sure are amazing, Winry!"
Winry's eyebrows arched at having being praised in such an exuberant manner.
"Trisha said you're dad's automail mechanic," Ben supplied, talking about automail as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Winry couldn't help but gape at the boy. "That—" she began but fell silent. She had no idea how to respond to that type of comment without getting herself into trouble. But if Edward had talked to his children about her existence, wouldn't that make it okay for her to talk about her origins? Winry cleared her throat and tried again. "That's right, Ben. I'm your dad's automail mechanic."
Ben stared at her in amazement, his blue eyes dancing with merriment as if he just met his hero. Winry offered the boy a grateful smile in turn, for his earnestness and innocence helped her realize that everything wasn't so terrible in that somber world.
"Is it true that Uncle Al was a bonafide Tin Man? like the one from The Wizard of Oz?"
The question Winry snapped out of her musings. She stared at Ben, who decided to take her stunned expression as a sign to keep going.
"There's no Wizard of Oz in Amestris? Wow! You don't know what you're missing. I can lend you the book if you like—you sure would've loved watching the movie!"
Winry laughed nervously, not knowing how to respond to the barrage of questions, especially since she had no idea of what the boy was rambling about in the first place. Still, she tried.
"Well, I don't know any Tin Man, but to answer your question, yes, your uncle Al, was once a seven-foot-tall suit of armor, created from the sturdiest of steels." Winry felt a sudden pang of panic, she was probably disclosing too much. She turned to Ben. "I think you should ask your dad or Uncle Al about these kinds of things," she said to discourage the boy from asking more questions.
"Is it true that alchemy is like magic?" Ben simply said, ignoring her wishes.
Winry shook her head, she should've seen this coming. "Ben, I'm not the right person to be answering such questions," she insisted but it all fell on deaf ears.
"Well, I think alchemy is like magic," Ben said with a defiant grin reminiscent of Edward. Winry sighed, resigning to her fate.
"You know, Sister Isolde says that 'God works in mysterious ways', I think she might be right. Anyway, you're a nice person, Winry."
Ben sure was a talker, but what he said last had been so random that Winry couldn't help but stare at him with undisguised shock.
"What makes you think that I'm not nice?" she asked out of curiosity.
Ben buried his hands in his pant pockets and began rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Winry hadn't meant to embarrass the boy. She assumed Ben wasn't going to answer the question, given his silence, but then he spoke.
"It's just that Trish says you're an evil witch, and that I should stay far away from you because you're nothing but trouble." Ben kept his eyes fixed on the ground while he talked. It was clear that he was feeling troubled for going against his sister's wishes.
Winry bent and put her hands on her thighs for support. She offered Ben her biggest smile as they made eye contact. Ben glanced at first, but then he held her gaze. Winry waited until she had his undivided attention to share with him what she had to say.
"Ben, I think Trish said those things about me because she hasn't got a chance to know me as you have. She probably has lots of questions about me too, but she doesn't know how to ask those questions." Winry hoped her words would absolve the boy from all guilt, and they seemed to have the desired effect seeing as Ben brightened up almost instantly.
Winry gave him reassuring smile, safe in the knowledge that a white lie never hurt anyone. Ben didn't need to know that Patricia would never give her a chance as he did.
All of a sudden Ben looked away, and even though he wasn't fully facing her, she could see a scowl forming on his face.
"You know, dad isn't like that—it's just that Trisha likes to make him angry," Ben said, then shook his head. "Trisha went too far," he added, blinking tears away. "Trisha didn't use to be like that. She changed when our parents decided to send us to boarding school."
Winry felt a sudden urge to comfort this child. She wrapped her arms around his slight form in a motherly embrace. Ben hugged her back and buried his face in her warm chest. Shortly after, his small frame shook with silent sobs. Winry whispered words of comfort as she stroked his hair. She closed her eyes when they began prickling with the threat of tears.
Neither Ben nor Winry heard the thud-clack of mismatched steps coming their way.
"There you are, Ben. I've been looking all over for you."
Winry's eyes shot open when she heard Edward's voice. She looked up and found Edward standing near Betsy's rear. Winry could've sworn that she saw a glint of tenderness in Edward's golden gaze, but then she remembered that no such thing existed in Edward's world.
Winry returned her attention to Ben when she felt him tensing. She shot Edward a warning glare; there wasn't going to be a repeat of what happened the other day when she found out about the children.
Edward held her angry gaze for a moment before turning his attention to his son. "Your sister was asking for you," he said calmly.
Ben untangled himself from Winry. "Oh, no!" Going by what Ben said had about his sister, Winry understood why he was panicking.
Edward offered Ben a complicit smile. "Don't worry. I told Trish you were lending Mr. Jackson a helping hand."
Ben sighed in relief. Winry glanced from Ben to Edward, confused by all the secrecy.
"I had an inkling Ben would be here," Edward supplied, reading her thoughts. He then fell silent as if considering something. Finally, he said, "You know, he's been dying to talk with you."
"Dad!" Ben's face turned as red as a beet.
Edward chuckled. "I didn't mean to embarrass you, son," he said, but Winry knew, by the glint of mischief in his eyes, that this hadn't been the case.
Edward approached them. He patted Ben's head, and said, "So? Is she as how I described her to be?"
Edward fixed his gaze on her right after finishing his comment. Winry knew she would've blushed if she hadn't been harboring so much anger towards Edward.
"Oh, dad, she's amazing!" Ben said as he flashed her a toothy grin.
"I know." Winry didn't need to look at Edward's face to know he meant what he said.
"Ben, go find your sister," Edward followed. "I'll join you both right after I finish talking to Miss Rockbell."
Winry's treasonous heart flitted with emotion. In any other situation, she would've given into the sensation, but not today. All she had to do was remember all the terrible things Edward had done so far, and her heart would have no other choice but to surrender to reason.
Ben was looking rather disappointed, but nonetheless, he acquiesced.
The boy gave her a huge smile before taking off, finally leaving her alone with Edward.
"I hope Ben didn't distract you much," Edward said once everything got quiet. "He's almost nine, yet he's still as curious as ever."
"Ben didn't bother me at all." Winry shook her head. "In fact, I find him to be quite a charming little boy."
"Just like Al," Edward replied with a wistful smile.
Well, at least he recognizes it, Winry thought to herself. She turned her full attention to Edward, and instead said, "Well, you should get going." Right now, she didn't have the right set of mind to handle a conversation with Edward.
Edward pressed his lips into a thin, disagreeing line. "Won't you hear me out?" he said not long after.
"There's nothing to talk about," Winry repeated in a harsher tone, annoyed with his insistence.
She could already feel her temper flaring, so she walked up to the toolbox and grabbed a tool without looking, then went to the front of the roadster, hellbent on tinkering with something.
"I'm no mechanic but even I know a hammer won't be of much help."
Winry looked at her hand and cursed under her breath when she realized her mistake.
"Which tool do you need?" Edward called as headed for the toolbox. There was a sudden silence. Winry looked up and saw Edward frowning.
"You smoke?" Edward scoffed, all while flashing Winry an accusatory glare.
Winry was momentarily stunned by his reaction. She couldn't help but snort in contempt when it finally clicked who was trying to scold her about bad habits. "Yes, I do," she harrumphed, her defiance shaking Edward in turn.
Winry went up to Edward and dropped the hammer in the toolbox. She then snatched the Lucky Strike cigarette pack and the lighter from the table, all while offering Edward an insolent smirk. Winry took a cigarette out of the pack, her blue eyes dead-set on mocking Edward as she pinched the cigarette between her lips. Winry lit the cigarette and took a deep pull. "Why are you still here?" she said as a cloud of smoke enveloped them both. She put the cigarette pack back on the table before leaning on the wall.
Edward stared at her in shocked silence, but that initial shock gave way to a lip-curling sneer. Edward picked up the cigarette pack and took one out. "Mind lighting it for me?" he said with sardonic amusement.
Winry made sure to hold on tight to her mask of cool indifference as she held Edward's mocking gaze. She would rather die than to let him how much his brazen move had affected her. She took Edward's cigarette and lit it with hers, then handed it back to him. Edward's gaze never left hers as he took a drag.
It was clear that Edward wanted to provoke her, or at best, incite curiosity. And it worked because she ended up saying, "Alcohol and cigarettes, how cliché."
Edward gave a dry laugh upon hearing the scathing comment.
"And hashish, and codeine," he shot back while holding up two fingers. "Laudanum too," he added, a third finger raised.
This time around, Winry had to hide her dismay by taking a drag of her cigarette. Alphonse did mention that Edward had many vices, which included dabbing on the occasional recreational drug, but he forgot to mention that these drugs were more than just recreational. While she didn't recognize the names of two of the drugs Edward mentioned, she knew laudanum.
Winry stared at Edward as she exhaled cigarette smoke, wondering if Edward was taking these drugs—laudanum at least—to treat pain instead of using them for fun. Laudanum would be something she would prescribe him when every other type of medication failed to help him cope with the encumbering pain of wearing automail.
"Winry, about the other day," Edward said, interrupting her thoughts.
Winry lowered her cigarette as she held his gaze. For the first time since she'd woken up on Earth, she saw Edward in a new light.
Everyone in the automail business had dealt with clients who had fallen victim to medication abuse. Winry considered herself to be one of the lucky ones, seeing she only had two clients who'd become addicted to pain killers in the years she's been active as an automail engineer. Irrational thinking and bouts of aggression were among the main symptoms found in those poor souls who abuse pain medication. Winry felt her heart constricting as she realized Edward exhibited both.
"I never meant to hurt you."
The same tired words, like a broken record; that too was the preferred excuse of the addict.
Winry swallowed hard. "I know," she said and was mildly shocked at how crestfallen she had sounded. There was a momentary pause. "Ed..." she began but fell silent.
Edward's shoulders squared as he prepared himself for a blow that would not come.
Winry took one last drag of the cigarette before putting it out. She then met Edward's gaze, and said, "Please leave. There isn't anything to talk about."
Edward didn't question her motives for refusing to hear him out, but he didn't leave neither. Edward simply stood there staring at her all while wearing that grievous look that she'd come to despise.
Winry started feeling uncomfortable at being watched through that kind of lens. She picked up a wrench from the toolbox and went back to work on Betsy, hoping that Edward would get the message and leave her alone. But Edward remained standing in place.
Winry couldn't take it anymore. "What, Ed? What do you want from me?" she lashed out.
"I want us to talk about what happened the other day."
"I already told you there's nothing to talk about," she grumbled while pretending to work on Betsy's motor.
"You know that's not true."
"Leave!" Winry warned, pointing the wrench at Edward.
Edward glanced from Winry to the wrench. "I don't care if you hit me with that wrench, Winry, I have it coming anyway," he said as he glanced back at her. "And I'm not going to leave—not until we talk."
Surprisingly, it'd been Edward's persistence what drove Winry over the edge.
"You want to talk?" Winry burst into hysterics. Edward gave her one of his grievous looks, and her laughter fizzled in an instant. "It's been five days—FIVE DAYS, DAMMIT!" she roared, balling her free hand into a fist while the other one strangled the wrench.
Edward averted his gaze. "I know, and I apologize for that."
Winry flung the wrench towards Edward, a knee jerk reaction to hearing his tired excuses all over again.
The wrench landed somewhere near the entrance to the garage, missing Edward's head by an inch. The clanking of metal as it collided with concrete was the only noise filling the space between them.
Edward remained unperturbed as if he'd been expecting this to happen all along. And Winry hated him for it.
"Get out!" Winry hissed. She must've been making quite the face seeing how Edward took a step towards her. "GET OUT!" she bellowed in a low, guttural voice, but Edward kept walking.
"Winry—" he began but his intentions got cut short when Winry pushed him away with force.
"What is it you don't get?" Winry shrieked. "I don't want to hear you out, and I don't want you around me neither!" Edward stared at her, wide-eyed. Winry felt a momentary pang of guilt for the way she was treating him but she wasn't going to back down. "What's the point in talking when your actions contradict your words?" A pause. "All you ever do is hurt others—not even your own children are safe." Winry felt her eyes moisten, but she kept going. "When I look at you, I don't see the person I once knew and loved—" she added, though she kept that last part to herself. Winry paused again when a wave of deep sorrow took hold of her heart. "I need you to get out of my life." That last bit surprised her, but it also freed her, for, at last, she was able to admit that Edward was never going to change nor there was anything she could do to help fix that.
Edward's face was as pale as a marble statue. He contemplated Winry for a long moment before turning away and heading for the exit. He only stopped to pick up the wrench she had thrown at him earlier. Edward straightened up and headed her way. Winry had to steel herself once he stood in front of her. Edward handed her the wrench and said, "I also wanted to tell you that there's been a breakthrough in our research." Winry's breath caught in her throat, something Edward found amusing seeing how he gave a rueful smile in turn. Winry clasped the wrench close to her chest, knowing that if she wasn't careful, she was going to end up crying in front of him. Edward took one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out. "Thanks for the cigarette," he said, then turned to leave.
Winry stood motionless as she watched Edward walk out of the garage. "Dammit!" she gritted through clenched teeth once he was out of sight. Hot, angry tears now blurred her vision. Winry felt emotionally drained and knew she would end up crumbling on the floor at any given moment. She left the wrench in the toolbox then opened the door and sat behind Betsy's wheel. In the silence of the garage, she buried her face in her hands and cried. She was tired, oh, so tired—of everything and everyone. Winry clutched the steering wheel and imagined Betsy taking her far away. The absurdity of it all, combined with her overwrought emotions made Winry fall back into hysterics.
A sudden glint of light caught Winry's attention. She looked down, noticing the car keys dangling from the ignition. Winry wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Having decided to indulge in her little fantasy, she turned the ignition. Nothing happened. Winry gritted her teeth in frustration. She'd been working on Betsy for almost two months and all the car had to do was obey one simple command. Winry tried to start the car again but it simply refused to cooperate. "C'mon you stupid car!" Winry let out another grunt of frustration as she struck the steering wheel with her fists. Betsy didn't deserve to be treated this way, but Winry was beside herself. The constant feeling of impotence made her cry again. This time she let it all out as she clung to the steering wheel. Winry cried for a long while until there were no more tears to spill. She wasn't proud of having sunk low but at least the crying helped her refocus. Now that her mind was much clearer, she tried to bring Betsy to life one more time.
Winry turned the ignition, and once again, nothing happened. Winry huffed in annoyance but quickly reminded herself that getting angry at Betsy wasn't going to solve anything. Think, think— Winry told herself as she bit her lower lip in concentration. Then it hit her. Automobiles from Earth use gasoline as fuel and not steam like their Amestrian counterparts. Betsy needed to be choked to get her started!
Winry quickly adjusted the choke then turned on the ignition; she also put the transmission in neutral. "Okay, girl, I know you can do it," she cooed at the car as she pulled the choke out. Betsy's engine indeed was starting to come to life! Winry pushed the throttle level all the way down. Betsy began purring like a kitten; Winry's face lit up. "Yes!" she cried, jumping in place. Not only she'd managed to fix a car possessing a different type of technology from what she was used to, but she also managed to accomplish what no other mechanic on Earth could. Winry made sure the level on the left side was pointing up before pressing down on the gas pedal. Betsy's engine revved with ease. "I'm sorry about before," Winry said while caressing the steering wheel.
Betsy might be up and running but she still needed to be tested. Winry could very well drive the roadster around the premises, but her heart told her this wasn't enough. A thought dawned on Winry: she now had the means to move freely, so what was stopping her from exploring the world? Edward, the voice of reason answered for her.
Winry frowned when images of Edward leaving the garage flashed through her mind. And thinking about Edward made her remember his insistence in keeping her hidden without so much as a sound explanation.
"Well, he can screw himself for all I care!" she shrugged.
Winry returned her attention back to Betsy. She couldn't deny that Betsy's rumbling sounded like a promise of a wild adventure.
"Tomorrow I'm going to take you out for a ride," she said as if she was talking to her new best friend. "But first, we need a plan."
A mischievous grin spread across her rosy lips when an idea popped into mind.
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A/N 2: Well, the next chapter is the final one for the First Arc, and the last re-write. After that, everything will be new content. Finally, right? Here's the thing, the original Chapter 13 was around 11,000 words and since I'm fleshing out things in every rewrite, I expect the revised chapter to be between 14,000 and 17,000 words. This will take me until the end of the year to post, so please be patient, the story will be finished.
A/N 3: There's a lot of cognitive dissonance in this chapter, it's what made the damn thing so hard to rewrite. I do hope this reads well for you as it did for me :)
Visit my Tumblr page: hirstories dot tumblr dot com for story-related artwork and other stories.
Thank you for reading!
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References
(1) Pangaea or Pangea was a supercontinent that existed during the late Paleozoic and early Mesozoic formed approximately 300 million years ago and then began to break apart after about 100 million years. (Source: Wikipedia).
(2) Invented in 1892 by Sir James Dewar, a scientist at Oxford University, the "vacuum flask" was first manufactured for commercial use in 1904, when two German glass blowers formed Thermos GmbH. They held a contest to name the "vacuum flask" and a resident of Munich submitted "Thermos", which came from the Greek word "Therme" meaning "heat". (Source: Thermos). Yes, I have a penchant for adding details to my stories such as this one.
(3) The Zippo lighter has been around since the early 1930s. The lighter got it's quirky name thanks to the founder George G. Blaisdell, who liked the sound of the word "zipper" and "zippo" sounded more modern. (Source: Wikipedia). Did you know Zippos became popular during World War II? I came to know that tidbit thanks to my dad who inherited one of those lighters from my grandfather; and yes, my grandpa did get to fight Nazis.
(4) Lucky Strike is an American brand of cigarettes owned by the British American Tobacco groups. Often referred to as "Luckies", Lucky Strike was the top-selling cigarette in the United States during the 1930s. (Source: Wikipedia). No, I don't condone cigarette smoking, FYI. However, since I'm an art student, I must say that their advertising is quite effective. I had to do a paper on advertisement in the 1930s so that's how I came to know about this brand of cigarettes. XD